


An Ever-fixed Mark

by 27noir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27noir/pseuds/27noir
Summary: "They’re going to fucking brand me, Sirius."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this probably two years ago or more and am finally posting it, whoops. It's unbeta'd, so forgive my errors.

There is a light on in the kitchen and it makes Sirius hesitate in the entryway of his flat. He’s pretty sure he turned it off when he left. Also, the smell of cigarette smoke doesn’t just linger, it’s a haze drifting across his living room. Things look intact but he pulls out his wand anyway before quietly stepping across the room. One can never be too careful these days.

He finds Remus at his pathetic excuse for a dinner table smoking. Chain smoking by the looks of it. There’s nearly a whole pack of butts in the ash tray in front of him, another nearly down to his fingers.

Which are shaking so bad Sirius is surprised Remus doesn’t dropped it.

“Remus,” he breathes. “Where the hell have you been? We’ve barely seen you since the last moon.”

Remus doesn’t say anything, just puts the smoke to his lips and inhales on it with trembling fingers. It’s a moment before he looks up at Sirius, but when he does Sirius sees he’s trying to hide his anguish.

“Moony,” he says, sitting across from him at the table, thoughts of opening a window forgotten at the look on Remus’ face. “What the hell happened?”

Remus looks evasive for a moment longer, rubbing his chin and the stubble there upon, then sighs and digs in his pocket. He tosses its contents on the table between them like the worn parchment sparked him at the touch.

“That came for me.” His voice is rough and worn, but his tone is worse. When Sirius just stares at him, Remus nods his head at the battered envelope and turns away, smoking once more. Sirius watches him nervously dragging on the bent cigarette, before turning back to the letter in front of him.

Sirius picks it up delicately. It hasn’t been folded so much as crumpled, but enough times that it has permanent wear. He tries to flatten it out, running his fingers over Remus’ name neatly printed on the front, his thumb over the return address…

The Ministry?

“No,” he says softly, mostly to himself, and rips the letter from the envelope. He reads it once, too fast. He’s half way through the second read, slower and with rage building in his chest when Remus slams his hand down on the table and swears.

“Damn it!”

The ashtray shatters in a sudden burst of magic, and a piece of it shoots past Sirius and bounces off the wall. He looks up apprehensively from the parchment in his hands.

But Remus’ outburst has already subsided. He’s bent forward against the table, palms pressed into his eye sockets. This is always how it has been with Remus. Sudden rages that went as quickly as they came. As if the werewolf in him was trying to claw its way out and Remus had to keep stuffing it back in.

Sirius admits that it scares the shit out of him sometimes.

Now though, now he’s just scared _for_ Remus. Scared and angry.

He places the parchment aside not so delicately, vile thing that it is. He should say something, he knows, but he doesn’t know what.

“Moony,…”

“I’m okay, Pads,” Remus says, though the crack in his voice and his still shaking hands reaching for another cigarette are evidence to the contrary. “I’m okay.”

He looks up at Sirius, finally meets his gaze. He’s putting on a calm demeanor, but Sirius can see the storm raging in his eyes and suddenly he’s just a little bit scared of Remus again.

“It’s absolute rubbish, but I’m okay.”

It’s more than absolute rubbish. It’s complete and utter shite.

“I thought they weren’t voting on them for months.”

“Yeah, well,” Remus says, inhaling sharply on the smoke in his fingers. “Some things are moving quicker, with the war.”

Sirius wants to take the cigarettes from him, rub some calm back into his friend’s hands. But he let’s Remus smoke. Lets him have what he can.

“I’ll have to quit my job. Maybe try to get a muggle one, though even that will have to be under the table. They’re about ready to sack me anyway. Like my work but not my attendance record.” Remus huffs. “Yes, I’ll quit. Before the Ministry sends them a politely worded letter about what they have on the payroll. Don’t know what I’ll do about rent, but I’ll manage.” He looks up at Sirius, and tries to smiles. “I’ll manage.”

“You could move in with me.”

“No.” Remus says with a little too much edge. Then softer, “No. I won’t be treated as charity.”

“Fuck, Remus, it’s not charity. It’s about whether or not my best friend is living on the street or not. Or some hole in a crack house. I’d rather use my inheritance helping you than letting it just sit in that cold vault in Gringotts.”

“Sirius—“

“Just think about it okay? I’ve got a spare room and everything. I’d be happy to have you.”

Remus just frowns, fingers worrying at his lips. Sirius sighs. It’s not like they haven’t had this argument before.

A cold and brittle silence descends upon the kitchen.

“They’re going to give me a tattoo.”

It’s in this that Remus’ voice finally breaks. Suddenly he’s barely holding it together.

“They’re going to fucking brand me, Sirius. Numbered and tagged, like an some rampant stray. I’m on a fucking register!”

He gasps, gulping down air and Sirius sees he’s trying not to cry. It’s been a long time since he’s seen this from Remus. It reminds him of when they told him they knew about him being a werewolf and Remus thought he was going to get kicked out of school. He didn’t want them to know how upset he was, but Sirius recognized it, that face. It’s a something he saw a lot growing up, in Regulus, in himself.

“Remus, mate…” Sirius wants to tell him it’s okay to cry, to be upset. But he just watches as Remus pushes it down, locks it away.

It’s an ugly noise the chair makes as it scrapes backwards on the floor when Remus gets up suddenly.

“I need to go,” he says.

Sirius catches his wrist before he can bolt out of the flat, and Remus looks at him so startled, that he lets go immediately. Remus pauses though.

“See you in a couple of days for the moon, yeah?” he says softly.

“Yeah,” Sirius says.

 

*

 

Remus appears on his doorstep two weeks after the full moon, looking haggard and holding a potted plant.

“I lost the flat,” is all he says.

Sirius helps him carry in his trunk and shows him to the spare room.

Remus makes no comment about Sirius having acquired a spare bed and extra linens, just dutifully unpacks his things while Sirius orders takeaway.

They eat dinner on the couch and Sirius does his best to pull a smile out of Remus. He almost succeeds.

 

*

 

It’s not that Sirius blames him for being so unhappy. It’s that Sirius feels so utterly useless because there’s nothing he can do to help.

Living with Remus is not how he envisioned. He knew it wouldn’t be the same as sharing the dorm at school, but this is like living with a ghost. Remus cleans and cooks (to the best of his ability) and makes himself useful, as if to feel like he’s earning his right to be there. But otherwise Remus makes himself small and scarce and it irks Sirius to his core. Remus acts likes he’s trespassing and Sirius doesn’t know how to make him understand that he’s wanted here. That Sirius wants him here, and wants him to be _happy_.

That’s all Sirius has wanted for ages.

Remus has always drawn Sirius in, with his quiet brilliance and unexpected sarcasm and talent for making trouble. And somewhere in seventh year, probably in the realization that very soon they would not be spending every day together, it hit Sirius that he was very likely in love with Remus Lupin.

When the feelings did not abate at graduation, he concluded this was very much the case and settled into a life knowing that he loved Remus and he didn’t quite know how to go about telling him. Or if he should. So he took to daydreaming about getting Moony to live with him and the two of them shacking up together and being incandescently happy instead.

He’s got one out of the three now, but he’s willing to give up the second entirely if it means catching a glimpse of the third.

He almost told James once. They were out drinking and he almost just said it straight. _I’m in love with Remus. I’m in love with Remus and I don’t know what to do about it._  

It’s not that he believes James will hate him for it. James can be a prude, but Sirius knows when it comes to his friends, James would do anything.

But Sirius realized that James would probably say nothing that Sirius hasn’t already thought of and be just as lost as what to do. Or suggest something completely outrageous. James has never been particularly brilliant when it comes to relationships. Look at Lily, for example.

(Sirius likes Lily, even if it’s why they rarely see James these days. She’s level headed and can be completely scathing when she wants to be. But he still thinks she’s a bit of a nutter to end up with James after everything.)

Sirius wonders if he should talk to Lily about it. She’d be better than James.

“Toast?”

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Remus waving a piece of jam covered toast under his nose. Remus’ mouth quirks into an almost smile as Sirius blinks at him.

“Sorry,” he says, taking the toast and discovering that Remus has also made him tea. “Haven’t woken up yet, I guess.”

“You never were a morning person.”

There is silence in the kitchen as Remus picks at his toast and Sirius tries to think of something to say. He can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound trite or superficial and it leaves him with a hollow ache in his chest. It’s too early in the morning for this kind of depression, he thinks.

He wonders briefly if it’s contagious, this kind of sadness.

Remus pushes away his barely eaten toast. “I need to go out for a bit today,” he says, staring at his plate.

“Okay,” Sirius says, puzzled by the statement. This is strikingly formal and slightly worrying. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

It’s the only thing Sirius can think to say that might be reassuring, because Remus seems particularly nervous. Remus gives him a small smile in return, before heading out of the flat.

It’s well into the afternoon when Sirius, on the couch and studying for his Auror practicals, swears vehemently.

Of course. How could he have been so stupid? Today is the day that… well, Sirius doesn’t want to think about it, but Remus is the one who is currently experiencing it so Sirius tries to not cower from it. No wonder Remus was weird this morning. He was going into the Ministry to get his fucking tattoo.

He allows himself to be upset about it for half an hour, and then gets up and puts on the kettle.

Remus’ return is signaled by the clatter of the door and a loud thump as his bag hits the floor. Remus usually so careful of his things.

Sirius pokes his head out of the kitchen as Remus comes into the living room looking utterly defeated. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Tea?” Sirius says at last.

Remus just nods.

Once they are both settled at the table, a mug of tea each, Sirius open his mouth to say something but Remus cuts him off with a broken look.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.”

Sirius tries to protest, but Remus shakes his head.

“I will, I promise. But not right now. Okay?”

They drink their tea in silence.

 

*

 

It’s nearly a week before they do talk about it.

Remus isn’t quite as distant as he has been, but Sirius suspects that’s only because he’s trying to be happy for Sirius sake. Sirius doesn’t like this either but considers it might be better than nothing.

They are sitting on the couch reading. Remus, some classic muggle fiction. Sirius is at his Auror textbooks again. He’s beginning to rethink this whole Auror thing. He’s not sure how he feels about working for the Ministry these days. Even if they need people on the inside with the war.

Sirius’ battered turntable is playing softly in the corner. He could afford better one, one that doesn’t skip so bad, but he thinks it’s more punk rock this way. It starts to skip now, and Sirius gets up to fix it. When he returns, he finds Remus has put his book aside and has pulled up the cuff of his sleeve.

He’s staring down at his arm with such loathing. Sirius can’t see the tattoo because Remus keeps running his hand over it, but it still makes him a bit sick. Gingerly he sits back on the couch beside him.

“They said it would fade,” Remus says shakily. He turns his arm so Sirius can see. “It can be brought back up by magic, but they said it’d fade.”

It’s not terribly large, just a series of letters and numbers on the inside of Remus’ forearm, much like the call numbers on the books at the library. But Sirius feels like he’s been kicked in the chest that this has been allowed. That some thought this was a good idea. And that it had to happen to Remus.

“I mean, I guess it won’t really matter if does, I’ll always know it’s there. But they said it would fade.”

“It’s probably still healing,” Sirius says without assurance. “I’m sure it will fade soon…”

All week he’s been prepping himself for this, to be supportive of Remus when they finally got down to it and suddenly he finds he doesn’t know what to say.

But it seems Remus is finally ready to talk.

“It’s just… we got out of school and I thought I could handle it.” Remus turns his head up the ceiling, resting it on the back of the couch, pressing his palms to his eyes. “Thought it’d be okay. Thought _I’d_ be okay. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I thought I’d manage. And I think I was, for a while there. I was paying rent, I was feeding myself, mostly. And even with all this talk of war, I thought it was going to be okay. That I could finally live with myself, live with the wolf.

“That stupid fucking letter,” he says with venom. “The fucking Ministry.”

Then Remus laughs, and it’s hollow and ugly. “I must be a fool. Dreaming for some sort of peace from it. It’s a fucking wolf. It’s always been vicious. I don’t know why I expected anything less.”

He falls forward on himself, face pressed into his hands, shoulders shaking.

Sirius hesitates, but lays a hand on Remus’ back and rubs it a little when Remus doesn’t seem too mind.

“It’s okay,” Sirius says, though his voice fails him. Remus snorts a little through his tears and Sirius sigh. “No, you’re right, it’s shite. Complete and utter shite. I just mean, I don’t blame you for being upset about it. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go trash the Ministry for what they’ve done. Actually…That’s not a bad idea…”

“Sirius,” Remus says a bit despairingly.

“Yeah, sorry, not the time….”

Remus sits up a little and gives him a weak smile. “I was thinking more that it will fuck up your chances with the Auror academy…”

“Oh. Well, working for the Ministry is starting to loose its appeal… I’m pretty pissed at them at the moment.”

Remus frowns, and sniffs. Then he starts crying again.

“Sorry,” he says. “Merlin. I was trying so hard to not let this affect me, now look at me.”

“Fuck, Remus, look what they’ve done to you. You’ve got all the right to cry.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate myself any less,” Remus says.

“I know,” Sirius says, and he does, he finally does. He finally understands why things have been so terrible lately.“I’m just saying, I’m don’t blame you for falling apart a little.”

“I think you mean ‘a lot’,” Remus says with a sniff and something vaguely resembling a laugh. He shoves his hand under his nose. “Merlin, I’m a mess.”

“Considering current circumstances, I’d be the same.”

Remus sighs heavily, falling forward, burying his head in his arms for a moment. When he looks up again, his eyes have cleared a little.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a drag lately.”

Sirius shakes his head.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be happy for me. I’m honestly just glad you finally moved in.”

This apparently is not the thing to say. Remus gets a sort of distant look in his eyes.

“This isn’t how I thought it’d be,” he says. “Us living together.”

Sirius shrugs, because he doesn’t want to lie to Remus, but doesn’t think right now is the time to say he agrees. “Most things don’t turn out like we think they will.” He says. “Sometimes things get better.”

“Yeah…” Remus says. He looks tired and turns to stare at the wall absently.

“Remus…” Sirius starts, thinking he might as well say it.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Remus says, though, interrupting him.

“Yeah…” Sirius says, a bit deflated. “Yeah, go get some sleep.” He gives Remus a smile.

Remus hesitates. Then he put his hand on Sirius’ knee and pats it a bit awkwardly before getting up.

“You know,” he says, picking up his book. “I’m glad I moved in, too. I don’t know that I could have done this without you here.”

He gives Sirius a sad and heavy laden smile then heads to his room. The door clicks before Sirius lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Then he flops down face first on the couch with a sigh.

 

 

*

 

Sirius gets up the next morning with intention.

He spent a long time sitting in the living room deliberating after Remus went to bed, so he didn’t get much sleep, but his mind is set.

It’s not like it’s a new idea. He was going to get it after graduation, but time slipped by him somehow, and he realized if he doesn’t get it now, he maybe never will.

Remus seems a bit more up beat, though still looking very tired, when Sirius comes into the kitchen. He smiles.

“You’re up early.”

“I’ve got some errands to run.” Sirius says.

“Want some company?”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s okay. Just need to pick up some stuff.”

Remus looks a little crestfallen, hiding behind his cup of tea. But things don’t seem so tense this morning and Remus smiles just a little when Sirius gets up to go.

The tattoo parlor is a bit on the seedy side, but the guy there was recommended to Sirius by a fellow Auror-in-training. One of the few places in muggle London that will do magical tattoos, if you know how to ask.

Sirius watches with fascination as the guy puts together his equipment. He must be fidgeting because the guy looks up and chuckles slightly.

“First time?” he asks.

“Yeah.” But that’s not why he’s restless. He can deal with pain, had to growing up. It’s that he’s excited to finally be doing this.

There’s a little part of him that’s worried that Remus will think he’s gone round the bend when he sees it. But he shoves that down and focuses on the peculiar sensation of a needle pushing ink into his skin.

He’s in a state of euphoria by the time he gets back to the flat, adrenaline running through his veins. He could get addicted to this, he thinks, staring at the bandage over his arm. It sets off another wave of warmth through him, but he pulls down his sleeve to cover it before stumbling back into the flat.

Remus is at the kitchen table, flipping through a muggle paper. It takes Sirius a moment to realize he’s job hunting.

“Anything of interest?” he asks, flopping into the chair across from him, being careful of his arm.

Remus looks up at him. “There’s a bookshop in Soho looking for help. They want a curator at the British Museum, too, but that’s a bit far fetched for me. Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah,” Sirius says trying to keep the guilt from his voice. He was going to pick up some food to use as pretext, but forgot everything as soon as he got out of the tattoo place.

He’s not sure why he’s lying to Remus either. He’s going to have to show him sooner or later. He’s going to have to tell him what it means.

Now, he thinks with mild dread, is a really bad time to get cold feet.

Remus just hums at him and turns back to the paper. 

Sirius feels like he’s the one trespassing that afternoon, fear building in his gut. Because what if Remus hates him when he tells him? What if he wants to move out? Sirius begins to feel this was a rash decision, and soon retreats to his room trying to push down his panic.

He curls up in bed, feeling childish and a fool for being so transient. In the dim light he pulls back the bandage to stare at the marks underneath and frowns. He doesn’t regret it. Well, if Remus doesn’t want to see him again, he might. But despite all the fear that Remus will loath him, down at his core Sirius is still glad he got it.

He ends up falling asleep, and when Remus knocks on his door to see if he wants dinner, it’s dark outside.

Sirius stumbles out and into the kitchen, yawning. His arm itches something fierce and absentmindedly he pushes up his sleeve to scratch it.

He freezes.

Remus swears at the sight of the bandage on his arm and takes Sirius’ wrist. “Merlin, Sirius, what kind of trouble did you get up to this morning? I know you were trying to be secretive about whatever it was but, you should of let me heal this…”

Sirius starts to snatch his arm back, but regrets it and tries to undo his mistake. Remus drops his hand anyway, and steps back, looking hurt.

“Remus,” Sirius says. “It’s not… Oh fuck it, look.”

He pulls the bandage off, wincing a little from the tape, revealing the inside of his arm to Remus.

“You got a tattoo,” Remus says, dead pan. Sirius tries to gauge some reaction from him, but his face is blank. “That’s where you went this morning? To get this?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said.

Remus just stares at it.

Running down the inside of Sirius forearm is the phases of the moon.

“It’s magic, so it changes color with moon cycle—”

“Why would you get this?” Remus says and Sirius thinks he’s a little angry.

_He doesn’t get it,_ Sirius realizes, panicking. He had rather hoped the action would speak for itself. Now he’s going to have to try and explain and he knows he’s going to fumble it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he says, and swears dramatically in head. Yeah, fumbled it right there.

“Obvious?!” Remus says, and there is definite fury in his eyes now. “How is it obvious?! Unless this is somehow to make a mockery of me.”

“What?” Sirius sputters. “I’m not mocking you Remus, why would you…”

“Do you think this is funny, Sirius,” Remus yells, tugging up his sleeve to show the mark there. It hasn’t faded yet, and the sight of it still turns Sirius stomach, but so does the tone of Remus’ voice. “Look how fun it is, getting a permanent reminder of the kind of monster I am. Remus’ is so cool, let’s go get one of our own. Is that what you thought? Well, fuck you.”

“It’s because I love you, you fucking idiot!”

For a moment his words echo loudly through the otherwise silent kitchen. Remus stares at him, wide eyed.

“You what?!” He sputters, still angry, but it falters in his confusion. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

Sirius swears, torn between anger at Remus for not letting him explain, for assuming such things, and at himself for not realizing how much this would upset Remus.

“Remus, just listen to me for a moment. I got it because… Because you changed my life. You and James and Peter, too even. But mostly you. You taught me so much. I learned astronomy from you. And about muggle technology. You taught me that friends can be a better family than blood. And I would have never have gotten the patronus charm with out your instruction. Or the perfect technique for throwing dungbombs for that matter,” Sirius adds with a frown. “And it was because of you that I learned to stop being arrogant, selfish pureblood trash. You helped me be better.

“I got it because I love you. Every bit of you. I love your stupid sweaters and your tendency to dress like a musty librarian. I love how you take heaps of sugar in your tea to the point that I wonder if there’s any tea left. I love how you’re patient with everyone when you’re teaching something. And love your scars. Everyone of them. I love how utterly stubborn you are all of the time, too. And I even love your wolf. Because as fucked up as it is, things wouldn’t be the same without it. Because maybe I wouldn’t have met you and maybe we wouldn’t have been friends. And that’s the worst thing I can imagine.

“I love you, and even if you don’t love yourself right now, let me be proud of how I feel about you until you do. And after that too…” Sirius adds as an afterthought, his dramatics trailing off. “I kind of hope you’ll let me love you forever…”

Sirius clamps his mouth shut, aware that he’s just babbling now. Then he sighs heavily. “I love you, Moony, and I’m not ashamed of it. I just… I wanted to get something to show that.”

Remus stares at him, mouth slightly agape, for what feels like an eternity.

“Say something,” Sirius says. “ _Please._ ”

Remus’ eyebrow furrow slightly, and he looks away.

_Fuck,_ thinks Sirius. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Remus looks back at him, and he’s crying. He’s also smiling a little.

“Fuck you, Sirius Black, making me cry. Twice in two days.” He gives a bit a strangled laugh and Sirius is so very confused.

Until suddenly Remus’ hands slide around to the back of his neck and he presses his lips against Sirius’ own. Sirius wonders if the whole world doesn’t make a little sense at that.

After a moment Remus pulls away but Sirius wraps his arms around Remus’ waist and pulls him back.

“You can explain in a moment,” he says. “Just kiss me again first.”

Remus laughs slightly before pressing himself against Sirius again, his breath ghosting over Sirius’ lips.

When they do let go of each other the first thing Remus says is, “I’m sorry.”

Sirius blinks at him, his memory blank from the kiss as to why Remus might need to apologize.

“For yelling at you,” Remus says. “For, well, assuming what I did.”

Shaking his head, Sirius says,“I could have had better timing.”

Remus considers this for a moment, then take Sirius wrist and turns it so he could see the tattoo there.

When he looks back at Sirius he looks tired and sad again. “You mean it, don’t you?”

“That I love you? Fuck yes, I mean it. I meant everything I said.”

Remus nods. His mouth quirks into a small smile. “That was quite the speech,” he says and then chuckles when Sirius gets embarrassed. He leans up to kiss him again.

“ _This_ is how I’d hoped living with you would be.” Remus says, pressing his nose into Sirius cheek.

Sirius laughs. “Me too.” He leans in to kiss Remus again, only to pull away at the last second, a look of confusion his face. “Wait, then why did you did you fight so hard not to move in? We’ve been arguing about it since just after graduation!”

Remus blinks at him, like it’s obvious. “Because I figured it would never happen, the two of us, and I couldn’t fathom living with you and it not being like that. That’s be like school all over again.”

“Oh. _Oh,_ ” Sirius says, realizing what Remus just implied. “You liked me during school too?”

Remus laughs. “Yes. Very much so.” He smiles, and Sirius thinks it’s the first real smile he’s seen from Remus in months. The first one that hasn’t been pulled down at the edges with sadness or despair. It fill Sirius with such warmth to see it and he pulls Remus close again to kiss him.

“I love you,” he says again. “I love you, Remus Lupin, and I’m going to keep telling you that until you can say it to yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” Remus whispers as he wraps his arms around Sirius neck. “Okay.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

They gave him a number in Azkaban. Remus knew they would. But there is something gut wrenching about it when he actually sees it.

Sirius once said he loved Remus, every bit of him. Even his wolf.

Remus wonders if he will learn to love this part of Sirius.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when the shaggy form of Padfoot showed up at his door. He almost thought, _finally_ , because this was bound to happen eventually. He welcomed Sirius, sat him down and got him a cuppa, and did his best to be pleased to see him.

He is pleased, really. And relieved. Because now they can finally talk things out and Remus can stop spending absorbent amounts of time fretting about what he will say when Sirius shows up on his doorstep. But Remus is nervous. He’d spent twelve years reconstructing his life without Sirius and then in an evening it all fell apart and now he’s beginning to wonder what’s real and what are the lies he made himself believe.

So, once Sirius is settled on the sagging couch in his parents old cottage with a cup of tea, Remus lingers in the doorway to the kitchen, blowing on his tea, trying to think of something to say.

At last, he says, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Sirius says. “Dumbledore thought it was a good idea. Have me somewhere I can reliably be found for a little while. In case there’s news,” he adds, vaguely.

“News?” Remus tries not to be nervous. News almost always meant bad news in his experience.

Sirius, who has been staring down seriously at his tea, but has yet to take a sip, looks up at him with something that isn’t quite a smile, but might be trying to be. “About the house.”

It takes Remus a moment. “ _Merlin._ He thinks your going to get Grimauld Place? What the hell does he want it for?”

Before Sirius can even answer, Remus sighs.

“A headquarters. He wants it as a headquarters for the Order.”

“That’d be my guess,” Sirius says, looking back down at his tea. He wasn’t the epitome of health when he came in, but he’s looking just a bit paler now.

“Would you really go back there?”

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know that I have much choice. Can’t be on the run forever.”

Old instincts almost make Remus open his mouth and say “You can stay with me.” The _forever,_ being implied. But Remus isn’t that kind of dreamer anymore, if he ever really was. He’s barely making enough now to pay the bills, let alone support someone else. He doesn’t mind Sirius staying, but things are going to be tight.

“God, I hate that place,” Sirius says with utter loathing. “I fought so hard to get away from it.”

“Maybe it will be different without your family there.” Remus says.

Sirius gives a snort of indignation. “I bet my mother enchanted herself into the walls. I wouldn’t be surprised if she put a bit of her soul in that house.” He sighs. “It won’t be like living there as a kid, but I don’t think it’s going to be all kittens and flowers either.”

He closes his eyes and looks so worn out.

“You look like you could use some sleep.” Remus says, putting aside his tea. “You can shower if you want and I’ll find you some clothes that should mostly fit, and set up the guest bed.”

Sirius frowns, but nods.

“We can talk tomorrow,” Remus says. But it’s mostly to reassure himself.

Sirius goes to take a shower with the assurance of creature that’s been hunted for too long and has a hard time believing anything is safe anymore. It’s quiet for while, then Remus hears the water running and he goes to dig out some of his father’s old clothes that might fit Sirius.

He’s trying to find a clean towel too, when there a loud thump from the bathroom, a clatter and Sirius yelling.

Remus scrambles across the house and flings open the unlocked door and finds Sirius scrunched at the bottom of the tub, clutching his head and crying.

For a long moment Remus just stands there in the steam. He should do something, he knows he should do something. But through the growing fog he can see the dark ink against Sirius sickly pale skin. It’s partly hidden where his arm bumps up against his dark hair, but most of it is clear enough.

The realization that it is strikingly similar to his own kicks Remus very hard below the ribs.

But _Sirius is crying_ and Remus can count on one hand how many times he’s seen Sirius cry and still have some fingers left, so he moves beyond his discontentment to try and help his friend.

Sirius finally seems to realize he’s there.

“Sorry,” he says. It’s almost a whimper. “Sorry. Sometimes they still make me remember things. Even when they are not here.”

He takes a shuddering inhale, then breathes out just as heavily and pulls his head down to his knees. The water is still running and Remus leans over to turn it off.

“Sirius?” He says softly, staring down at the too skinny frame in his bathtub. Sirius is pale and scarred and _fragile_ , and these are not things he ever associated with Sirius Black. Even when Remus hated him.

“Sirius,” he says again, crouching down beside the bath. “Talk to me.”

Sirius uncurls himself slowly. He’s no longer crying, but there’s this hollowness in his eyes and it makes Remus swear softly.

“Fuck, Sirius, is it always this bad?” Remus sits down on the cold floor of the bathroom, tucking himself in beside the bath. He’s digging in his pockets when Sirius lets out a whisper of a sigh.

“Not always,” He says. “Sometimes it’s worse.” He smiles a little, like he’s made a joke, but Remus doesn’t find it funny.

Instead he breaks off a large piece from of the chocolate bar that he had in his pocket and gives it to Sirius, who, even in his distress, raises his eyebrows at him. Remus just shrugs, breaking off a piece for himself too and biting into it.

Sirius stares at it for a moment, concentrating hard. Then he says softly, “Just like you used to when we were at school… Right?” He looks up at Remus for reassurance. “Always used to carry it around in the pocket of your robes.”

Remus nods. “Yes, like when we were at school.”

He isn’t surprised that Sirius doesn’t seem to remember this clearly. He suspected some sort of dissonance, really. There aren’t a lot of studies on the affects of long term habilitation in Azkaban, for obvious reasons. Not many make it out again to be studied. Remus looked anyway. Because he always was an ‘insufferable academic’, as James used to say. But it makes sense, the memory loss, after years of being forced to remember only the worst things in one’s life.

They eat their chocolate in silence, until Sirius starts to shiver, still naked and damp in Remus’ ill heated loo. Remus fetches a towel and helps Sirius out.

He’s wrapping the towel around Sirius’ shoulders when Sirius says suddenly, “It was about you.”

Remus blinks at him, not sure what he is referring too.

“The memory,” he says. “In the shower. It was about you.”

“Oh,” Remus says after a pause.

“I remembered the way you looked at me after the incident with Snape,” Sirius says. Remus wishes he could describe it as distantly but Sirius is oddly alert. He reaches up and rubs his thumbs over Remus’ brow, from center outward.

“It was like you weren’t looking at me at all. Like I wasn’t even there.” Sirius looks like he’s about to cry again, hands dropping to his shoulders to pull the towel tighter to him.

“Yes, well,” Remus says, completely unsure of how to respond to this. “I was pretty mad at you at the time.”

Sirius stares at the floor for a moment before looking up at him again. “Are you mad at me now?”

He should lie. He knows he should lie. But Remus opens his mouth and says “I don’t know.”

 

 

*

 

 

He’s woken in the middle of the night by Sirius’ nightmare, the next room over.

Despite Sirius’ thrashing he’s able to wake him up, shaking him roughly by the shoulders, but only after being smacked in the side of the head by a flailing arm.

Sirius’ eyes go wide at the sight of Remus, even in the dark. “Moony,” he says in a whisper, and pulls Remus into a rough, tight hug and a gesture that might be Sirius attempting to press his lips to the side of Remus’ face. “Moony, it’s you. Thank Merlin, it’s you.”

Remus doesn’t comment on Sirius’ apparent disorientation, or that Sirius’ embrace is crushing his ribs. He just hugs him back and tires to find comfort in the familiarity of Sirius’ nose tucked into his neck.

When Remus does try to disengage, Sirius grips his shirt tightly.

“Don’t go,” he says. “It’s been so long, please don’t go.”

Remus can’t say no, not to Sirius, who has always been able to ask for what he wanted. Sirius shifts to make room for him, and Remus tucks himself under the covers. Sirius doesn’t press himself to him like Remus expects, just reaches out and puts his finger tips to Remus’ face. He falls asleep with a smile.

Remus never learned to ask for anything, not even with Sirius, for fear that that the answer would always be no. He took the miracles he was given, but he had not wished for any of them.

He watches Sirius sleep, a stark contrast to just earlier, and wonders if it’s too late to learn to ask for what he wants.

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

It haunts him, that tattoo on Sirius’ right arm, almost as much as his own. Possibly more.

Sirius isn’t shy about it either. Remus suspects he’s either forgotten about it, or has learned not to see it, because he doesn’t hide it, doesn’t have any issue rolling up his sleeves or otherwise make it visible.

But every time, the sight of it stabs Remus sharply in the ribs and he has to look away.

Remus said that he’d forgiven Sirius, in the dark and the must of the Shrieking Shack, nearly a year ago. But Remus isn’t sure he meant it.

Every time he sees that tattoo dark against Sirius’ skin, he can’t help but be reminded that Sirius trusted _Peter_ , more than he trusted Remus. That Sirius had thought Remus to be the spy, despite all the declarations of love and all the well intended words that had passed between them.

They’ve barely talked since Sirius arrived. They step around each other accordingly, acting if nothing is wrong, but they both know there are issues still at hand.

Sirius doesn’t force him to talk about it though. Maybe he’s just as unwilling as Remus to face the rocky ground between them. He’s having enough of a time keeping himself together. At least twice every day Remus finds Sirius in a defensive position, tucked in some corner of his parent’s old cottage. Remus makes him tea, and supplies some of his endless chocolate stash, and Sirius uncurl and apologizes. They don’t talk about what causes Sirius to stop functioning, either.

Remus would say it’s like living with a ghost, but at night Sirius turns into a wailing spirit, his presence in the house all too apparent. After the first couple of nights, Remus stopped sleeping in his own bed, and crawled in with Sirius, who keeps his distance even there. His presence helps, but Sirius still wakes in a terror, and often disorientated. Half the time he doesn’t believe Remus is real.

It’s been over a year since Sirius escaped from Azkaban, and it makes Remus incandescently angry that someone thoughtthat allowing the dementors there was a good idea. That Sirius had to live through that for eleven years.

It also makes Remus sick to his stomach. But mostly because Sirius’ nightmares reminds him of all the things that are wrong between them.

That damn tattoo, too. Remus isn’t sure why he’s so fixated on it, but every time he sees the dark ink, the kind that never faded, it’s like finding out that Sirius thought him to be the traitor all over again.

He wonders if maybe he should just push past it. And he tries, fumbling, to forget it and move on. But the more he does the more he knows they have to talk about this—yell about this maybe—before things can begin to maybe be right.

And maybe Sirius has been thinking the same thing, because one morning, in the silence that spreads over them like dust, he sighs haggardly and says, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Pardon?” Remus says, putting down his tea cup with sudden clatter.

“Let’s talk.” This is the most focused Sirius has been since he arrived. He stares straight at Remus, eyes clear, face steady. “Because I can’t take much more of this, Remus.”

Neither can Remus, really. Everything been too tight around his chest since Sirius arrived. The words fall from his mouth before he can even think to stop them, to think of a better avenue of delivery.

“You thought I was the traitor. You went to _Peter_ , because you thought I was the traitor.”

This is obviously not what Sirius thought was the issue by the look on his face.

“After _everything_ , you thought _I_ was the spy?”

“Remus…” Sirius starts, looking desperate.

“How, Sirius? How did you manage that? How after all the words you said, and all the promises and the _fucking tattoo,_ did you suddenly loose faith in me and not tell me about being James and Lily’s secret keeper? Or did it all mean nothing? You said you loved me. You said it to me every day for two years. Did it just loose meaning after a while? Did you ever mean it at all? Because I built myself back up then because _you loved me_ and _you_ _thought I was not worthless_.”

Sirius just gapes at him.

Thing fall apart for Remus in the silence that follows.

Because that is the truth. It was Sirius’ constant assurance, his unabating stubbornness to not give up on Remus that allowed Remus to pull himself out of the pit of depression. Sirius did exactly what he said he would do. He told Remus he loved him until Remus finally found some worth in himself, and after that still. Remus built himself up on belief that _Sirius_ valued him, enough to find some value in himself.

Except things tend fall apart when one builds their self worth solely on the basis of someone else’s opinion and then all evidence points to that person being a liar.

He feels like its the day James and Lily died all over again. He lost his only four friends in one go. But he also lost what he had structured his life on. He didn’t know what was true anymore. He doesn’t know what’s true now.

When he saw that little dot on the map labeled “Peter Petigrew” relief rushed through him. Because there was a chance, again. There was hope that things were not as they had seemed the last twelve years. Hope that Sirius had not lied to him.

He had learnt maybe not to love himself entirely on his own terms in the absence of his friends, but at least to carry on. To love himself enough to get by.

Sirius’s admission in the shack that he had believed him to be the spy only hit him the next day, while he packed his things to leave Hogwarts once more. He had buried his feeling then, using his mastery of a calm demeanor to hide it all when Harry stopped at his office. And he’d been burying them since, or trying to. But it’s been eating away at him the last year. And now he needs the truth from Sirius.

“Well?” Remus says, sinking back to sit in his chair. He hadn’t realized he’d stood up in his anger. Sirius is still staring at him. “Was it all just worth nothing? All of it?”

“Fuck,” Sirius says at last. “Fuck you, Remus.”

Remus had noticed Sirius shaking, but had not expected it to be out of anger. 

“How can you fucking say that, Remus? Merlin!”

Sirius glowers at him, looking like he’s about to throw his tea at Remus, or a punch at least.

“I fucked up, Remus! I loved you, but I’m not infallible. You know that. Merlin, you of all people should know that. _I love you_ , but that doesn’t mean I don’t fuck up sometimes. And if you think it never circled back to haunt me, if you don’t think the dementors took advantage of the fact that I didn’t trust you when I should have, and that maybe James and Lily wouldn’t have died if I had just talked to you…”

Sirius pauses only to gulp for breath.

“ _It was the war_. I hate that that sounds like an excuse, but fuck, Remus, the war turned everything upside down. All our friends were dying or in hiding and the Ministry was a wreck. Look what they did to you! And you were gone so fucking much. Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me shit about where you went and what you were doing and I knew you wouldn’t break your word to him, knew you felt you owed him that. So we didn’t talk about it and things fell apart and I _fucked_ up.

“I know it. I’ve been reminded of it every day for the last thirteen years. But you were the last person I needed to tell me I am a worthless piece of shit.”

He doesn’t even give Remus a chance to respond, just transforms into Padfoot and pushes the handle of the back door and is gone.

When he slinks back in at dusk, they exchange a wary glance, but that is all.

And when Sirius wakes in the night, Remus, in his own bed and in his own sense of utter self loathing, pulls the pillow over his head to block out the sound.

 

 

 

*

 

 

“Snape will be stopping by later, I expect,” Remus says to the form of Sirius who has tucked himself tightly into the corner of the couch. “To bring my potion.”

Sirius opens his eyes.

“Full moon tonight,” Remus says.

“Right,” says Sirius, rubbing his left arm. “Right.” He looks contemplative for a moment, then closes his eyes again.

It’s the longest conversation they’ve had in two day. Remus isn’t sure it’s a victory.

Neither of them have slept well either, so Remus is almost looking forward to the oblivion of sleep that the wolfsbane potion inflicts on him. He wants to stop thinking for a while.

It’s Dumbledore who appears, not Snape, half an hour before sundown.

“Remus,” he says congenially, while handing him a steaming container. “Something from our mutual friend. My apologies for coming unannounced, there are matters I wish to discuss with Sirius.”

“I’ll leave you to it, Sir. I’d best get this down before the moon comes up.”

“Right you are.”

He can feel Sirius’ eyes following him as he takes thermos of wolfsbane into the kitchen and downs it as fast as he can. It’s as wretched as ever, but it beats the kind of transformation he’d have otherwise.

He doesn’t wait to see Dumbledore off, just retreats to his room to undress. The potion kicks in fast and he is drowsy already.

He feels the moon pull at him, as it always does with the moon rise, and then everything fades out.

 

*

 

 

He doesn’t usually wake through the full moon, or if he does, he doesn’t remember. But this time there is the distinct notion of raising his head and another canine form pressing it’s nose into his with a lick and a whine. The wolf settles back down, eased by the company and then it is dark again.

Remus wakes in human form, naked but surprisingly warm. He’s still stiff and sore from the transformation, but not wrecked like he would be without the potion, and the warmth at his back is unusual.

When he shifts, he finds Padfoot staring up at him with a lowered head. Padfoot whines a little, snuffling his nose into Remus’ side. He has to smile, though Pads’ nose is cold and damp, and Remus curves his body around the dog to hug him. He doesn’t care that they’ve been fighting, not right now. This is the first time he’s had company through the full moon in many, many years and it is a joy not to wake up alone and cold.

They stay like that for a while, until Remus decides his desire for a strong cup of tea trumps all else.

“Come on,” he says. “I’m dying for a cuppa. Breakfast?”

Padfoot barks, and wags his tail a little and jumps down from the bed.

And then he is Sirius again, and Remus feels apprehensive once more, perched on the edge of his bed, if only because Sirius is staring at him a bit brokenly.

“Pads?” he asks. “I’m sorry we quarreled—“

But Sirius cuts him off with shake of his head and reaches out a hand to Remus’ bare chest.

“When did you get this?” he asks, and for a moment Remus has no idea what he’s talking about.

Then he remembers, but he looks down at his chest anyway, before looking back up at Sirius.

“The week before James and Lily died.”

It’s just an outline, three animals right above his heart. A shaggy black dog in front, a stag standing proud behind it, a rat sitting on the stag’s back.

“I didn’t have the money to have it finished at the time. And then after… Well, after…”

Sirius stares at it.

“The week before…” he says with a broken laugh.

Then he stumbles to he knees in front of Remus, clasping Remus’ hands and pressing them to his chest. Remus thinks for a moment that Sirius is about to cry, but when he looks up at Remus he’s got a wry, sad smile on his face.

“If only we had talked to each other,” he says. Then he swears. “Fuck, Remus, I really did fuck things up, didn’t I? I good as killed James and Lily. I abandoned you. I left Harry to be raised by those horrible muggles.”

Sirius sighs and Remus catches his head in his hands, pulling him close.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispers into Remus’ collar bone. “If only I could make you understand how sorry I am.”

Remus presses his face into Sirius’ hair. “I know,” he says. “I know.”

When Sirius finally pulls away, he is solemn.

“Dumbledore secured the house.”

“Oh,” Remus says, unsure if this is good news.

“He wants me there as soon as possible. Day after tomorrow.”

“That soon,” Remus says, panic building because they maybe just started making things right and it feels like he’s running out of time.

“You’ll come with me, won’t you? When I go back?”

Relief rushes back into Remus.

“Of course,” he says. “Yes, of course.”

Sirius pulls back his mess of hair and pauses before saying, “Are we going to be okay?”

It comes out in a despairing tone that Remus knows well. Not from Sirius, but from Remus himself.

He should have known. He should have known how wrecked Sirius would be.

“If you accept my apology for yelling at you, I think we might have a good start,” Remus says.

Sirius nods, silent. Then he says quietly, “You thought I was a spy too, you know. That’s what you said in the shack.”

Remus is oddly prepared for this.

“Only after you got caught. What evidence did I have to think otherwise? And even then… Merlin, even then I loved you longer than was reasonable for someone who killed all my other friends. I didn’t want to give up on you, but time kind of wore me down. The longer you sat in jail, the easier it was to believe you had really done it.

“I hope you’ll accept my apology for that too,” he adds.

“Are we on even ground then?” Sirius says. “I don’t know if I can face my childhood horrors without you.”

“Yeah,” Remus says. “Even ground.”

 

 

*

 

Sirius is grim through the whole secret keeper ceremony. Remus thinks he can actually hear him gritting his teeth as they step inside the dark and depressing front hall of Number 12 Grimauld place. He looks a bit sick too, especially when they find he is right, his mother did leave part of herself in the house and encounter the portrait near the door. Sicker too, when Dumbledore makes it clear that he’s not to leave, that Sirius has found himself a new prison. But he holds it together until it’s obvious his duty is done.

Then he says, quite politely, “If that will be all, Sir, could I kindly ask to be left alone and for you to get the fuck out?”

Dumbledore tips his head, “I’ll be by in the morning.”

Remus moves ever so slightly, assuming this means him too, but Sirius’ hand shoots out and grips him around the wrist. “Remus can stay.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything else for a long time, just slides his hand in to Remus’ own, thin fingers in thin fingers, and silently they explore the house.

It doesn’t take long for Sirius to start shaking and he stops suddenly at the bottom of the second stair landing.

He doesn’t turn to look at Remus, just stares at the steep and narrow steps, and says in a breaking voice, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Sirius…”

“She pushed me down these stairs,” Sirius says, and then he does turn to Remus. “Summer after sixth year. We were having a row, and I said I’d do anything for a half-breed like Remus Lupin, because at he was worth more than the whole family combined, the filthy lot. She tried to tell me I couldn’t see you again, or James, with his mudblood sympathetic parents, or Hogwarts. I told her to go to hell. And she pushed me. She pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

Sirius is staring up the stairs again, his voice going distant. “It’s a wonder I didn’t break anything.” He says, and he almost sounds like he’s going to laugh at the gruesomeness of it all.

“Is that when you went to James?” Remus asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Sirius nods. “I didn’t want to be a burden on you and your family. And James, he’d already talked to his parents. So I left. Packed as much as I could carry and snuck out.”

“Have you been back since?”

“Once. After graduation. James came with. Just to get a few of my things, and pack up the rest. She didn’t even say anything. Just snarled at our coming and going.”

Sirius lets out a staggering sigh and lets go of Remus’ hand, which has been in a vice grip. He folds himself against the wall, sliding down the paneling until he is a ball on the floor.

“This is going to be a nightmare,” he says, as Remus sits beside him, but facing the wall, their knees knocking together. “How did I think this was a good idea?”

“I can stay,” Remus says quietly. “If it will help, I can stay.”

Sirius looks up at him with a small smile, but he is sad and weighed down. “Thanks, Moony…”

“Been meaning to get out of the old cottage anyway,” Remus adds, because he doesn’t think Sirius understands. “It’s too much upkeep for me. Better to be here, be more central, for Order business. For you,” he says. “If you’ll have me, at least.”

“Of course! Moony, of course..”

A look of discontentment falls on Sirius face, and he goes quiet. But he’s rubbing his tattoo, the one on his left arm, the one he got for Remus a lifetime ago. 

“Back then…” he says after a moment. “Back at the beginning… how did you manage it? Hating yourself so much? You would think I’d be used to it by now, all these years left to remember all my faults. But I don’t know if ever going to get better. And sometimes…” He turns away, running a pale hand through his shaggy hair.

Remus takes his other hand. “Well, I had this friend. The best kind of friend, who wouldn’t let me give up on myself. Who was true to his word, and stuck with me until I could do it on my own, and then for a while after that too.”

“And then he was a fuck up and left you all alone for years and years?”

“He left me alone, and maybe he did fuck up, but I think it was because he got confused and scared because times were shit. And he came back, in the end.”

“So you don’t blame me then?” Sirius asked.

“No, Sirius, I don’t blame you. I never wanted to blame you. But I got confused and scared and things have kind of been shit.”

Sirius gives him a small smile, and grips his hand tightly.

“And Sirius,” Remus says, wondering if maybe it’s too early to say this, but saying it anyway. For once in his life, he’s going to ask for what he wants. “I understand completely if you don’t want to, after everything, but… if you think maybe, if you want to… do you think it could be “us” again, like when the war started. Do you think we can try…”

_Merlin,_ he’s just babbling, isn’t he.

But Sirius is smiling at him softly.

“I missed you, Moony,” he says, tugging Remus in closer. 

“I missed you too, Pads,” Remus says, letting Sirius draw him in, forehead to forehead. “Merlin, how I’ve missed you.”

 

*

 

 

 

Remus is greeted at the door of Grimauld Place by Sirius skidding down the hall.

“Moony!” he says, grinning. “Did you get it?”

“Sirius, your mother—!“ Remus starts with a hiss, but it’s too late.

“Half-blood rubbish! How dare you let such trash in my house!”

“Oh, shut up you useless hag,” Sirius says, flicking his wand at his mother’s portrait, and catching Remus’ hand before he even has a chance to take off his coat or shoes. Sirius drags him out of the hall and up the stairs to the room they’ve been sharing.

He kicks the door closed behind them, tugging at Remus’ coat.

“Come on, come on,” Sirius says, almost in a whine.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had other intentions,” Remus says with a laugh, pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt.

Sirius wiggles his eyebrows in response, even though they haven’t fallen back into that just yet.

Remus slips off his shirt and peals the bandage off his back, revealing the tattoo nestled there between the tops of his shoulder blades. 

Sirius tugs him closer to inspect it, excitedly. He takes it in, then grins up at Remus. Remus grins back at him.

There’s a moment’s hesitation, because not everything is as they say, like riding a broom. They have been broken, the two of them, as individuals as well as a thing together. They are still picking up the pieces and trying to understand how they fit with the parts that are missing, the parts they will never get back. But Sirius reaches out and Remus leans in and it’s smoother and more natural than the last time, which was not quite as fumbling as the time before.

Sirius’ hand are in Remus’ hair, pulling him closer, trying to avoid fresh ink at the base of his neck. Remus pulls him in, still discontented at how thin and waif like Sirius feels now in his arms, but happy to have this back. To have Sirius’ lips pressed against his, to have him close like this.

After a moment Sirius nuzzles his nose into Remus’ neck, holding him close. He is still and quiet, but Remus treasures it, a moment like this.

“I still say you should have gotten it on your butt,” Sirius says.

Remus groans as Sirius pulls away to give him a wide grin.

“You’ve got a nice butt, Remus. I’m just saying… Not a bad place for it.”

Remus wants to argue, but the sight of Sirius so mischievous tugs at his heart. It’s a good sign, Sirius stirring up trouble. Remus was delighted to hear Sirius call Dumbledore “that old git” only just the night before. Sirius was a Marauder, through and through, they all were, and Remus can’t help but think that this is a sign that Sirius is finding his feet at last.

“They did a good job,” Sirius says, sobering up. “Your drawings were always stellar, but they did a good job of rendering it.” He smiles softly at Remus.

Remus had shown Sirius the design barely a week before. It was his first official day in the house. He’d spent a week apperating back and forth, taking care of business at the cottage and doing his best to help Sirius settle into his new prison. But once his parents’ old place was closed up, and his stuff moved, the two of them sat down in the kitchen, one of the few habitable places. Dumbledore had been in and out all week, and Molly was coming the following day to start a ruthless striping of the house, but they had the place to themselves that evening.

The paper was creased, Remus having carried it around in his pocket most of the week, with a pencil to add or rehash part of it. But he was content with it now, and laid it out on the table between the two of them, trying to press out the worst of the wrinkles.

Sirius picked it up reverently.

“What’s this?” he asked, staring down at it intently, fingers trailing over the lines.

It wasn’t a particularly detailed drawing. The design was simple but effective, Remus thought. A wolf and large black dog, forming a perfect circle, snouts resting on each others backs.

“I was thinking of getting another tattoo,” was all he said.

Sirius stared at him, eyes wide but otherwise unexpressive. Then he smiled, turning back to the drawing, tracing around the two animals with his finger.

“I love it,” he said.


End file.
